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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28306494">A Course Directed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin'>kaeorin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Loki's Lullabies [166]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Good Loki (Marvel), Nostalgia, Pre-Relationship, Reader-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:03:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28306494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as you've settled in to a quiet Christmas Eve spent alone, an unexpected visitor shows up at your door.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki (Marvel)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Loki's Lullabies [166]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>179</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Course Directed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally, I wasn’t going to write any kind of Christmas story because I haven’t written stories for other kinds of holidays so I thought this would be...too self-indulgent? Too exclusive? But then this idea came to me and I decided I really wanted to write something despite all that, and...here we are. I don't usually post stories on the same day that I've written them--I prefer to look at them with fresh eyes the day after, but I wanted to get this one posted tonight because it's set on Christmas Eve. Please forgive me for any errors I've missed. I hope you like this one even if you don’t care about Christmas? There is talk of holiday traditions and an exchange of gifts, so I understand if you’re not really interested in this one!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Christmas Eve. </p><p>Now, granted, it had been a long time since today had held the same amount of magic and wonder as it had when you were small. You were here by yourself, far away from your family. You had friends, of course, and colleagues and neighbors and just...any number of people who made sure to wish you warm regards each time they’d seen you in the past several weeks, but maybe a little bit of nostalgia was inevitable right now. </p><p>It was fine. </p><p>You sat in your window seat and looked out at the world. The window was a little drafty, and chill December air slipped in and tried to wrap itself around you, but you were already wrapped up in one of your comforters, and curled around your largest mug of hot chocolate. It was even snowing, a little. From your vantage point up high above the streets, you could see little whirling flurries of snowflakes tearing through the sky. If they made it to the ground below, they’d surely melt—New York streets often seemed too full of life for any real accumulation of snow—but up here, you could almost imagine that you were looking out of the windows of your childhood home.</p><p>Home. In reality, you knew that the “home” that starred in these fond memories was long gone. You’d flown home around this time last year, eager to soak in the warmth and the love that you remembered from your childhood. But your parents were getting old, and they were too weak, or else too sore, to do many of the things that you remembered. And they fought a lot more now than you remembered. They were cranky. You had tried your hardest to make the best of the situation, but it was clear that having you around last year was more stress than they could really handle. So you’d stayed put this year. And it was fine. You’d spent the evening video-chatting with them, and they’d been so happy to give you a tour of the little house they were renting for the winter. The cold was too hard on their old bones, your mother told you, and you’d smiled at her through the camera.</p><p>You’d foregone picking a Christmas movie to play in the background, option instead for one of those scenes with a crackling fireplace. The thought of hearing the sounds of happy families loving each other...maybe you couldn’t quite handle that right now. </p><p>For now, you watched the people in the streets below. You imagined that most of them were people just hurrying home from work, eager to get into their houses and apartments and out of the cold, slushy weather. Some people carried bags full of what you imagined would be presents. If you let yourself get a little carried away with imagining the warmth and coziness that awaited them at home, especially tomorrow morning, what was the harm in that? Just because the magic was gone for you didn’t mean that it was gone for everybody. </p><p>You took another sip. Hot chocolate would never lose its magic. Sweet and rich and creamy, it filled your senses as you closed your eyes to enjoy it. A sharp gust of wind slammed into the window and you wrapped the blanket a little more securely around yourself. If this was what Christmas Eve had become for you here in your adulthood, that was okay. This was nice. </p><p>A gentle knocking sounded at your door. At first, you thought that it was part of the scene playing on your television, but when it sounded again, you sat up a little straighter. You weren’t expecting any visitors. You’d exchanged pleasantries and tins of cookies with Mrs. Elkin across the hall earlier this afternoon, so that was out. There was a family down the hall that had just recently moved in, but you hadn’t gotten to talk to them yet: maybe they were making the rounds and introducing themselves? They seemed awfully friendly in that Midwestern kind of way, so maybe they’d do something like that?</p><p>Curious, you unwound yourself from your blanket and padded over to the door. Just as you reached for the lock, the visitor knocked again. “I’m here! Hang on!” you called as you undid the locks and finally pulled the door open. A familiar face, with a familiar guarded expression, peered out at you from beneath a matching winter cap and scarf. “Loki.”</p><p>“It’s Christmas Eve,” he said. If you didn’t know him better, you might even say that he blurted it out. His cheeks were pink from the winter wind, and his eyes were bright and wide, and lord, had he ever looked this <i>pretty </i>before?</p><p>Uncertainly, you nodded, and then stepped backwards to get out of the doorway so you could invite him in. He stepped through easily, and then reached up to sweep his hat off of his head. Of course Loki of Asgard would be immune to hat hair. He ran his fingers through his hair anyway. “I didn’t think Asgardians would celebrate Christmas...”</p><p>He laughed then, just a quick, short little scoff, and shook his head. “Hardly. There’s no reason for anyone but Midgardians to celebrate the supposed birth of a Midgardian child meant to save your realm.” </p><p>Ah.</p><p>His voice was cool. Not icy, necessarily, not the way you’d often heard him speaking to others—it seemed like he’d always had a certain soft spot for you, which warmed his words significantly. But maybe the idea of celebrating an Earthly holiday struck an uncomfortable chord within him. You nod again, to yourself this time, and turn to close the door behind him.</p><p>“I mean—forgive me.” There’s the Loki you know. Just as you were sliding the lock into place, he reached out to touch your shoulder. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I only meant to say that...those in the Tower, they said that tonight is a big night for Midgardians. It’s special?”</p><p>“Kind of. Not for everyone, but...yeah, for the people who celebrate Christmas, tonight is kind of nice. You spend time with your loved ones and you get to look forward to tomorrow morning and it’s just really warm and nice.” Should you take his coat? He’s already unbuttoned it, so it looks like he <i>might</i> be planning to stick around, but it was hard to be sure.</p><p>You must have hesitated just a little too long, because he ducked out of his coat and held it out to you. A strange little thrill ran through you at that, and you had to fight hard to keep from ducking your head to take in the smell of him. Instead, you hung it on one of the hooks on the back of your door. </p><p>“But you’re here alone.” His quick, sharp eyes took in the sight of your living room. You hadn’t bothered with a tree or anything, but you did find a couple of strands of lights to hang up near your ceiling, and you had a few ornaments that you’d set out around the room. </p><p>With burning cheeks, you ducked your head and stepped around him to make your way into the kitchen. “Ah—yeah. My family is far away. It’s just me and the Yule log on the television there. Do you want some tea? It’s cold out there.” But you didn’t really wait for a response as you ducked into the kitchen. Certainly you weren’t trying to run away from him, right? He followed close behind, and you heard him take a seat at your tiny kitchen table as you set up the kettle. “What about you? Is Thor not at the Tower?”</p><p>He scoffed again. You wanted to turn around to face him, but something told you that he might appreciate a moment of privacy, so you busied yourself with rummaging through your cupboards in search of a mug fit for a prince.</p><p>“He’s busy. Anyway, we don’t hold such traditions. I just thought that, being Midgardian, you might...” But he trailed off. Still, it was enough to make a pleasant warmth swell in your chest. It was always a surprise when you found out that other people thought about you at all, let alone someone like Loki. With a smile, you reached for Mrs. Elkin’s tin of cookies and opened it before placing it on the table before him.</p><p>“You thought I might be lonely, or you thought I might have treats?” Was that a flash of guilt in his eyes just then as he looked up at you, or were you imagining things? To distract yourself, you picked up a cookie and took a careful bite, as though to show him that it was okay to do the same.</p><p>He picked a cookie shaped like a snowflake, decorated with royal icing and lovely glittery chunks of sugar. The two of you munched in silence for a while, until the kettle finished boiling. It was hard to say when, exactly, you’d learned how Loki took his tea, but you didn’t even need to ask how he wanted it. It wasn’t long before you were placing his mug in front of him and then ducking back into the living room to retrieve your own hot chocolate.</p><p>“Do <i>you</i> get lonely?” The question came out before you could think twice about it. Ordinarily, you would never have asked him such a personal question, but maybe tonight just felt...strange. “Do you miss the rest of your family?” You looked up at him, hoping to further soften the atmosphere with a careful smile. He was already looking at you. When your gaze met his, he was quick to look away again, fixing his eyes on the remnants of his cookie. </p><p>“My family wasn’t much to speak of.” There was an uncharacteristic hesitance in the words, and, although you wanted to interrupt him to tell him that he didn’t need to say anything else, you held your tongue. “You know how I came to be here. I don’t particularly miss the ones who sent me away.”</p><p>“You can be lonely without missing people who were bad for you.” Much like your question, the words came unbidden. But they felt right. “But even if you do miss the people who were bad for you, I think that’s okay, especially around this time of year. I know you’re not Midgardian, but it’s like everything everywhere right now is all about having a good family and all these warm friends who love you. It’s hard <i>not</i> to feel like you’re missing something.”</p><p>He didn’t respond, but you felt his eyes on you, sharp and calculating as ever. Once again, you didn’t look up in favor of picking your next cookie out of the tin. That cookie exchange was perhaps one of your favorite holiday traditions. Mrs. Elkin didn’t celebrate Christmas, but she did love baking, and you loved surprising her with new kinds of cookies and cookie cutters.</p><p>Loki stayed for quite a while. As it often did, conversation shifted from topic to topic. Talking to him was easy and effortless. You never felt like you were just making small talk. Everything seemed to matter with him, and he always had a new and surprising way to add to the conversation. You laughed harder than you had in a long time—possibly since your last conversation with him. When cookies no longer seemed substantial enough, you found a frozen pizza in the freezer and made it while he told you stories. It was hardly the most conventional Christmas Eve dinner, but Loki said it himself: he didn’t bother with the tradition in the first place.</p><p>After dinner, the two of you made your way into the living room again, and Loki hovered near his coat on the door for several long moments. You tried not to let on just how much disappointment flooded through you when you thought that he was getting ready to leave, but then he turned around to give you one of those dazzling smiles of his and hid something behind his back. It was not mischief that brightened his face, but something a little bit stranger. Still, you weren’t entirely certain you wanted to ask.</p><p>“Whatcha got there?” You were tempted to try to fold yourself into the corner of the couch as you asked, if only to have that much of a distraction from whatever it was that Loki was planning, but maybe it was safer to stay on guard. Your time spent together was probably enough to know that he wouldn’t hurt you, but could anyone ever know for sure what he was planning? </p><p>“Rogers said that Midgardians exchange gifts around this time of year. Well, he rambled for a bit about the modern commodification of love, but I got the gist. It’s a tradition?” He edged a bit closer to you, both hands still clasped behind his back. Your heart fluttered in your chest, but you did your best to keep things under control. </p><p>You smiled to yourself. “Yes, I’m familiar with the practice. But I thought Asgardians didn’t hold such traditions?” </p><p>He must have realized that you were only teasing him, because he gave you a withering look even as he pushed a small box into your hands. It wasn’t wrapped, but...it didn’t really need to be. The box itself was lovely: a deep black velvet. Carefully, you ran your fingertips along the surface while you tried to summon the courage to look up at his face. The slightest hint of a smile curled the corners of his lips. When he raised his eyebrows at you, you did something that was very uncharacteristic of you:</p><p>You opened the box without a second thought.</p><p>There, nestled against a creamy satin cushion, rested a brilliant emerald pendant. You lifted it out of the box with fingers that trembled a little too visibly, and took in the sight of the delicate gold chain. The necklace was not terribly elaborate. It was not gaudy or too-much. But the simplicity of the pendant, and the color and the clarity, more than spoke for itself. You swallowed hard and looked past the necklace to lock eyes with the man before you.</p><p>“It’s beautiful. Loki, I...” you said in a hushed voice. His smile grew a little wider, then, and he stepped closer to take it from you. He may have asked permission—you did hear the soft murmur of his voice—but you couldn’t remember answering him, but then he stood behind you to fasten it around your neck. When he was finished, he came back to stand in front of you, and then bowed ever-so-slightly and kissed the back of your hand. You’d always cringed at theatrics like that, but if it was Loki…</p><p>“I saw that in a shop a little while ago, and I couldn’t help but imagine how it’d look on you. It is everything I thought it’d be.” </p><p>“Thank you.” Some tiny part of your mind was screaming for you to brace for some kind of prank, but you decided against it. He always seemed to appreciate it when you gave him the benefit of the doubt like that, and tonight was no different. His face was soft as he straightened again. “Loki. I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. You’re—you have beautiful taste. <i>Thank you</i>.”</p><p>If he were a different man, you might have thought that you could see a faint blush creeping up into his cheeks, or at least into the tips of his ears, but surely that couldn’t be the case. He squeezed your hand before releasing it, and shrugged a little. “You shouldn’t be thanking me. I knew from the moment I saw it that that necklace was yours. I was merely the messenger meant to bring the two of you together.”</p><p>You swallowed hard, thinking about the gift that you had for him, the one resting in the box on top of your dresser. It wasn’t nearly as lovely as this. It wasn’t expensive or elegant or...really anything. But suddenly you desperately wanted him to have it, if only to let him know that you’d been thinking of him while he apparently thought of you. You held the pendant between your fingers, caressing it thoughtfully, and raised your head to catch his eyes. </p><p>“I have something for you, too. A gift. But it’s not—it’s not like this. Don’t get your hopes up, okay? You don’t have to like it as much as I like this. I don’t expect that. I won’t be angry or anything. Just—um, just wait here. I’ll be right back.”</p><p>It was a book. As you ducked into your bedroom, you felt a strong desire to simply wither away into nothing. Of course you’d gotten Loki a <i>book</i>. Now it seemed so obvious, almost to the point of being generic. But the very first conversation the two of you had ever had came about because of a book. More specifically, he’d crept up behind you one day while you were eating lunch and thumbing through an old copy of one of your favorite books—a collection of works by Gibran. Something on the page had caught his eye, and you’d read something aloud to him, and that was that. </p><p>Earlier this winter, just as the air was growing crisp and the days were growing shorter, you’d ducked into a little used bookstore on your way home from work and lost yourself in the shelves. You weren’t really looking for anything in particular, but somehow you gravitated towards this book. It was old and well-read, and, when you’d taken it off the shelf, it had practically fallen open to just the right page in your hands. So you’d bought it, that cold night, and carried it home and wrapped it loosely in tissue paper, and tried to decide whether you’d ever have the courage to give it to him. You picked it up. It felt heavier than it once had. That made you feel a little better. This wasn’t just some thoughtless little trinket that you’d bought on a whim. Maybe—hopefully—he would see that. He saw things a lot more clearly than other people you’d known. </p><p>When you carried it back into the living room with you, Loki was still more or less in the same place he’d been when you left. Although you wanted to freeze in place and maybe chuck the book across the room to get it away from you, you stepped even closer to him and handed it over. “It’s really not much, okay. I just saw it when I was out, and I thought of you, and...I bought it. It’s okay not to like it.”</p><p>He accepted the gift with a murmured thanks, and gently unwrapped the tissue paper. Your heart was beating far too quickly in your chest. What if he didn’t remember that first conversation? What if he thought your gift was stupid? It was old, it was used, it was nothing special. You forced yourself to drop your hand away from your pendant as you watched him, just in case. He opened the cover, flipped thoughtfully through the pages. You watched the way his eyes skimmed through the text. </p><p>“<i>And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy,</i>” he read aloud, his voice lending even more weight and beauty to the words you knew by heart. “<i>It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, but rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.</i>” With that, he closed the book carefully and tucked it against his chest. “Thank you. I shall treasure this.”</p><p>Your face was burning. You took a step backwards before you could stop yourself. Some part of you wanted to ramble at him a little bit longer, wanted to explain what you’d been thinking that day or why you hadn’t just given him the book when you bought it. But the air in the room felt heavy, and that made it easy to fall silent. Loki took a matching step forward and towered over you in that way he had. With his free hand, he reached out to caress your cheek, and you felt yourself lean into his touch. </p><p>“There are some Midgardian traditions I find I rather like,” he said quietly. “Exchanging gifts, for example. I like that. I like seeing you wear that necklace. I like holding this book.” </p><p>When you looked up to meet his eyes, you found that he was already looking at something a little bit above your head. He glanced down at you but then looked up again, which naturally drew your attention up towards the doorway. There was something hanging there. A plant? Leaves? He stepped a little bit closer, nudging you backwards until you were positioned a bit more solidly beneath whatever it was. His smile grew wider. </p><p>“Stark told me about mistletoe. I think I could like that tradition as well.”</p><p>His face was a question you couldn’t wait to answer.</p>
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